


It's All about the Cat

by Ambrose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrose/pseuds/Ambrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompted by tveckling: ‘Okay, your cat has no sense of limits, I know I live right next door, but it’s too hot outside for me to keep my windows closed, so either you find a way to keep her in your own home or I’m co-adopting the cat and giving it a new name. I’ve woken up with it in my face more than once, so I kind of earned that right’ au</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All about the Cat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tveckling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/gifts).



 

The annoyance Raven felt at being disturbed while she was soldering a particularly tricky component to an electronic circuit slightly abated when she peeped through the spyhole and saw who exactly was knocking at her door this early in the morning.

It was replaced by a mixture of awe and dread, as she marvelled once more at just how gorgeous her downstairs neighbour was, with her wild braided hair and a stare that probably killed people before. She wondered what owed her this visit. Maybe she'd messed up which times she was allowed to inflict her loud music to her – they'd quickly worked something out in the first weeks of living close-by. They clearly had similar tastes – something Raven fancied gave her some sort of advantage she probably would never act on – but if most would consider metal “just noise,” it still became horrendous when two people were listening to completely different things at the same time. But was 9 in the morning on weekday, she was pretty sure the hot neighbour should have been at work, and anyway she hadn't put on any music yet. That day, anyway. The old lady on the 4th floor could never hear anything so the music did not bother her, but her nurse, or possibly daughter, that often came at that time to take care of her, complained often enough.

She didn't realise she spaced out, and jumped when Anya – as was written on her mailbox - knocked again. Well, she still had no clue why she was there, she'd just have to see...

It all became much clearer when she opened her door and found that Greebo was curled up in her arms. Which couldn't be, because that cat was a demon who only listened to Raven. She even bit Finn once – though she should probably have taken it as a more serious omen that things would get badly. But if she was to trust her cat's judgement, then clearly Anya was a decent human.

Before she could say anything, or start apologizing for her cat's tendency to jump off he balcony and sneak up on the neighbours, Anya went off: “so this fuzzball keeps getting into my apartment, and there's no way I'm keeping my windows closed just because of her – have you seen this stupid weather? – but if you just can't keep her here then I'm co-adopting her and finding her a damn new name. I've woken up with her on my face enough times to earn that right. What kind of name is Greebo anyway?”

“What's wrong with Greebo?”

They were still standing in her doorway, and the cat made no move to jump off Anya's arms and into her rightful home, so Raven did figure – albeit begrudgingly, and she'd never say it aloud – that if nothing else, taming that lion did indeed earn her that right. Hell, Raven should probably marry her: let's face it, the cat scared everyone else away, she'd end up an old spinster if she didn't.

“Well, clearly she's too pretty for that, and doesn't use her claws enough,” Anya said, scratching the kitty under the chin. Greebo started purring.

“Have you... tried having friends over while she was at your place?” Raven hesitated, clearly bedazzled by her own cat's reactions. Eventually she decided there was no point of staying in the hallway to have this conversation, and gestured Anya in.

“No? What's your point?” she asked as she followed her inside. If she was judging the mess that was Raven's apartment, she gave no sign of it.

“Well, try it once, before you decide to adopt her and rename her Fluffy or something. Greebo's not her real name anyways,” she felt she had to add, as she settled on her own couch, feeling a bit self-conscious as Anya took in her apartment before settling in the opposite armchair, cat still nuzzled in her arms. “Clarke's been calling her that after she almost tore her hand off, and it stuck.”

“Clarke?”

“Best friend. Blonde girl, you must have crossed paths with her often enough, she keeps talking about that friend of yours...”

“Oh, she must have met Lexa. She's been talking to me about her too.”

Raven gave Anya a conspiratorial smile, which she understood all too well. “Oh no, you don't go and try to set them up together, I have enough with _your_ cat in _my_ life, I don't need the friends too!”

“Well, that's too bad, 'cause I haven't told you yet, but you can't adopt the cat without adopting the owner as well!”

Anya had the good grace of blushing slightly – which Raven wouldn't have thought she was capable of, as she always seemed so in control of herself. Then again Raven never expected she'd have the guts to say that out loud. She wasn't usually shy, but Anya intimidated her somehow.

“So what's the real name?” Anya diverted.

“Just Cat,” Raven answered, grinning.

“You called your cat “Cat”? Hell, no wonder she likes no-one if they have to call her that!”

“no, you don't get it, she's called “Just Cat.”” She grinned even wider.

Anya stared at her in disbelief for a few seconds – it was comical, seeing her staring blankly as if it would start making some kind of sense in a second or two. Then she shook her head slightly, and went back to petting the cat, clearly deciding that Raven would give her a real answer when she'd see fit.

Then, something happened that Raven would never have expected: Anya cooed at the cat: “Your mom is being mean, isn't she? What shall we call you then, missy?” She even had that cute voice people take on when they're speaking to babies or animals. Raven was glad that all her attention was on the cat, else she'd see her smile way too much. There was no denying the whole scene was endearing.

“It's Gertrude, actually,” Raven answered almost inadvertently. “Or Missy, if you want. Since you're co-parenting now...”

Anya smiled back, before going back to cooing at Gertrude, apparently oblivious to Raven, or perhaps doing it on purpose: “now, see? that's why we need to find you a proper name! You think I should agree to adopt your mom too? You wouldn't mind sharing her, would you?” Then, almost as an afterthought: “You think she bites?”

“How 'bout we start with coffee, and then maybe you get to find that out?”

 


End file.
